Self
by EstelRaca
Summary: Decade, Den-O. SPOILERS through episode 15. Momotaros struggles to come to grips with what's happened to him; meanwhile Yuusuke struggles with being an Imajin's unwilling host. Character sketches, complete.
1. Momotaros

**Disclaimer: **Decade and Den-O aren't mine, I just love playing with both the characters.

**AN:** This is set during Decade's Den-O arc, episodes 14-15, with a few spoilers (or at least hints of spoilers) for things before that. The style for this one is a bit different, but I hope you enjoy! Constructive criticism always appreciated.

_Momotaros_

He doesn't talk to him at first because the boy's too busy screaming his head off. It's distracting, annoying, an instinctive human quirk that he's been dealing with far too much in the last twenty-four hours, and he's tired of it. So he ignores him, uses his inherent Imajin talents to shove his host's consciousness somewhere dark and quiet until he can be sensible, and proceeds to do what he needs to do.

It's not that he's being unreasonable. It's not that he wants to hurt the boy--man, or some strange combination of the two. Just like his real host.

Just like Ryou, and it _hurts_, thinking of his human, because he can't reach him and there're holes in his memory and mind that he can't fill without him and he'll kill every last Imajin left on the planet if he has to in order to set everything right.

He doesn't talk to the human he's borrowing then because he's angry, and maybe a little bit scared, and humans don't tend to react well to either emotion being foisted onto them. Better to leave him alone, walled off in his own little section of their mind, wrapped in a protective cocoon of defiance and fear.

It's not like he needs the human's consciousness or abilities. He's just fighting, mindless battle after mindless battle, and that's not something he needs anyone's help with. He doesn't even need the humans help anymore to recognize things he _shouldn't_ do, like hurt the Imajins' hosts or damage his new host's body too badly. Ryou's lessons on morality have sunk in that well, at least.

It hurts again, a mindless, missing ache deep in his chest, deep in his mind, and he yowls his frustration in a wordless scream. If he were in his own body he would be clawing at his chest, knocking on his skull, anything to distract from the irritating, infuriating absence he feels, but that's not an option anymore.

They stole his body. They stole the image Ryou gave him, the common thread that has defined him for as long as he can remember. He will kill them for that.

He goes through a half-dozen Imajin in as many hours. They're almost too easy, especially with his new host's body. It is fast, flexible, strong, a body used to fighting, like Ryou's by the time they were done teaching him.

But there is something else in this body, too, an alien something that makes it different enough from normal humans--from Ryou--for the similarities to not be quite so painful.

The alien thing is something he doesn't understand, a complicated something that he could pull from the human's mind if he really wanted to. That kind of violation would be cruel, though, so instead he investigates it himself, teasing at it with his consciousness, poking at their body where the alien device is centralized.

He doesn't expect the reaction he gets from his host. The mental shove is vicious, almost enough to separate him from the borrowed body, but he is too determined to hold on.

For a moment he faces the human, their consciousnesses fixated on each other, shared body frozen in place. The human hovers protectively over the alien entity inside him, determination burning bright. "Don't touch it."

"Why not?" He doesn't intend to ask the question, but curiosity moves faster than intentions sometimes, especially with him.

He isn't ready for the deluge of images and emotions that flood their mind. Battle is mixed in there, and that he can understand, so he gropes for and holds onto it as other things fly by in chaotic discord. A woman's face, and the conflict of emotions that go with her are staggering-love, sorrow, frustration, determination, a thousand shades of emotions he's still, after all this time, learning. A man, familiar to him, and he knows the mind that goes with the face if not the specific images and situations reeling from his host. Another woman, face identical to the first, and yet she is not the same, and the tinge of sorrow here is different but no less strong.

"Stop it." This host learns quickly, the sharing of experience coming to an abrupt halt at the human's command. "You don't have any right."

The fear is gone from the human's mind. Crouched defensively around his memories and the artifact that is-and-isn't a part of him, he stares down the Imajin.

It hurts, again, the ache he can't get rid of, the loss of something he had finally started taking for granted. The human is too much like Ryou, and whatever they have done has made it so that Ryou _hurts him_, and that is an unforgivable crime.

He didn't mean to shove the human's mind down again, but the action is done. He checks to make sure the human is uninjured, but he can't quite bring himself to reinitiate contact with him.

The human should be able to hear everything he can, though. "Sorry, kid. I won't mess with your belt thing, so don't worry. And I'll get you back to your friends once I've sorted this out."

If the human responds to him, he doesn't notice. There's another Imajin's scent on the breeze, and fighting makes him feel useful, though he's got a vague suspicion he's not actually making any headway.

Another half-dozen battles, and he starts making mistakes. He catches his host on fire, and though the boy's not really hurt, the tender red skin over the area makes the Imajin feel guilty. And then there's _blood_ dripping down the boy's arm, because he was too slow and too focused on the battle and able to completely ignore the quiet human in the back of his mind.

He cleans it up, and he apologizes out loud again. Because he can't face the boy who reminds him of Ryou but definitely isn't, or the pain it wakes inside him when he thinks on that too hard.

He's ready to do something else by the time the pink Rider shows up again. Ready to do something useful. Ready to give his silent host his body back, because it's not the way a host-Imajin relationship is supposed to be. Not anymore.

And though he complains when the boy attacks him, he's not really angry. It's hard to be angry when there's a fight that fantastic and he's got his body back and he can hear, faintly but clearly, Ryou's thoughts in the back of his mind again.

He considers saying thanks, but he doesn't know how, and there isn't time as Den-Liner comes to pick them up. Instead he helps the boy to his feet, steadies him as they stagger to the photography studio that's somehow become a part of Den-Liner. He considers leaving without saying anything, because that's what their relationship has been so far, but that doesn't seem quite right.

"Hey, kid..." He waits until the young man turns his face to look at him, wincing in pain as he moves. "Brought you home. And... sorry."

He doesn't wait for an answer. It's not important, he's pretty sure he can guess what it will be from even their limited bond, and... well...

His own friends are waiting for him to come home.


	2. Yuusuke

_Yuusuke_

Tsukasa betrayed him.

Its not quite true, and he knows that even as he panics, drowning in the sea of red that suddenly fills his mind. Tsukasa wouldn't do anything to really hurt him, he's sure of that, so the Imajin must not be that bad.

The knowledge doesn't stop the instinctive fear that fills him as his body starts moving, talking, acting on its own, and he can tell what's happening, mainly, but he's disconnected from it. He can't react to anything, can't even think quickly enough to try to react to anything, the red haze of the other's thoughts weighting his down. Nothing in his life has been as frightening.

He needs to be calm, needs to figure out what to do, and so he settles down into the dark emptiness the Imajin urges on him. Gathering his thoughts and memories close, he protects them as best he can.

The Imajin doesn't harass him. Doesn't approach him at all, for anything, and by the time he's figured out how to keep himself separate from the Imajin's thoughts while still being aware of what's going on they've left the studio and are fighting yet more Imajin.

Tsukasa and Natsumi let the Imajin run off with him.

He just watches, then, too uncertain to be properly scared. The Imajin possessing him isn't actually hurting anyone-just other Imajin, and by the way their human hosts react, unwelcome ones. Besides, there's an overarching hint of pain and desperation to the Imajin's thoughts that makes him hesitate to start fighting him.

Makes him think of Tsukasa, a bit, but he can't exactly say why.

But then the Imajin's looking around inside him, poking at the belt that makes him Kuuga, and he can't allow that. Kuuga is important. A force to protect people, a link to his home, a link to Yashiro, and it chose him. The Imajin can have his body, but it can't have that.

He almost drives him out, but the Imajin is ridiculously strong, and there's still an undercurrent of hurt to his thoughts that makes it hard to really struggle with him. So he settles instead for just protecting Kuuga, shifting the portion of his mind that is still his own until it settles over the familiar power signature. "Don't touch it."

It's not sight and it's not hearing, the senses that exist in this world of thought, but somehow that's what he imagines as the Imajin finally turns its full attention on him. "Why not?"

He doesn't understand what happens. The Imajin's thoughts are focused on him, close to him, and then they are suddenly _in_ his thoughts, sharing them, rifling through them at incomprehensible speed. Everything that Kuuga is, so firm and sharp in his mind, is firm and sharp in the Imajin's mind as well.

He hates it.

"Stop it." The transfer stops, their two thought patterns snapping apart again, and if he were in control of their body they would be shaking. "You don't have any right."

He doesn't fear the Imajin anymore. There are too many other emotions taking precedent, as well as a new certainty that if he wanted to, really wanted to, he could rid himself of his uninvited mental guest.

And he is suddenly inside the Imajin's thoughts, for just a moment, and again he substitutes sight for something that isn't sight. Himself, standing over the belt that allows him to be Kuuga, and there is another young man's image superimposed over it, another belt, and the Imajin is suddenly in agony.

He allows himself to be thrown back down into the dark, empty space that the Imajin isn't using. Its better that way, for both of them, because he hurts the Imajin just by existing and because the Imajin's raw grief and fear and inability to cope with it strikes far too strong a chord in him.

He was there, weeks that seem like months ago. Trying to determine who and what he was, defining himself by Kuuga, by Yashiro, by everything he did rather than who he was. He would still be there, maybe, if not for Tsukasa.

It's Tsukasa who helps the Imajin, too.

It pleases him more than it should to know that Tsukasa was watching out for him. To have confirmation that though Tsukasa let the Imajin possess him, and they let the Imajin take him, they wouldn't actually let him get hurt.

Much, at least. He can tell he's going to be sore, and there's a cut on his arm and a few minor burns, but it's all currently comfortably far away, separated from him by the Imajin's thoughts and the Imajin's near-constant adrenaline rush.

And then Tsukasa wrenches them apart, leaving his thoughts scattered, his body feeling awkward and heavy in a way he's never felt before. There isn't time for him to process whats going on or try to get things straightened out, either, because Tsukasa's already fighting and is actually asking for his help.

He feels bad about mistaking the Imajin for the enemy, but there weren't any real visuals in the thought-world he was stuck in for so long, and the closest the Imajin had to a mental image of himself was a human with glowing red eyes and a red streak in his hair. Definitely not an Oni-looking creature with horns and spikes and teeth that would make any vampire ecstatic.

Besides, between the Imajin and Tsukasa, he's not going to be able to move for a week, so it's more than fair.

It's the Imajin who helps him stagger to his feet and into the photo studio. He's not sure what to say to it-the Imajin knows anything he would say, or should, after so long with their thoughts so close together.

"Hey, kid..." The Imajin looks sheepish, his head turned away. "Brought you home. And... sorry."

He wants to answer. He wants to say it's all right, that he understands, that the pain of loss will fade and that memories don't always have to hurt. That self doesn't have to be based on what someone else sees, and that even if it is that person doesn't have to still be there to say that it's right.

But the Imajin's already walking out the door, and the human he's been chasing isn't really dead, and Yuusuke knows somehow, somewhere inside, that everything's going to be all right.

After all, they both made it home.


End file.
